Parallels
by HenriaSownbinder
Summary: The war ended. She was finally free of Death Eaters and Snatchers. Until something happens and then begins the confusion. Hermione is thwarted from her friends and family and thrown to a new time. Can she keep it together long enough to learn to survive in a world that is not her own? Only Hermione Granger can answer that and she is currently confused.
1. Prologue

_**A/N: Because I needed another something on my mind, here is my first time travel fic. Yes, I know, I need to finish my other stories. Yes, I know, I need to get my head on straight. I can't. I haven't for a minute and it has been bothering me. This is the first time that I have been able to actually sit in front of my computer and think of something coherent. So, I am going to run with this until I have exhausted my resources. Because I really want to see this one pane out. I think I am going to update this one on Saturdays. As of right now, that is the day I have the most time to myself. And I am quite excited over this one. I think it will be a great journey.**_

 _ **Warnings: This is going to be an interesting, if not darker, fic. I am going to warn you, there will be blood, guts and probably some smut. I WILL get over my anxieties on smut. Also, there will be Death Eaters and there will be Dark Lords. Please, keep in mind, this will be Rated M for reasons. :D**_

 _ **Happy reading!**_

 _ **Henny, that lucky Penny!**_

* * *

Elation.

An emotion that Hermione Granger was currently not accustomed to, but it was surging through her veins. It did not burn like pain. It did not heat her chest like adrenaline. It did not slow down like sadness. It was light and flowing. Despite the minor cuts and bruises, Hermione's lips would not stop grinning. Despite the bodies strewn on the floor, her heart fluttered. In time, she could begin grieving. In time, she would weather the storm of loss. But right now, Hermione was going to revel in it.

Harry Potter, her Harry, had felled the not-so-great Lord Voldemort. He had beaten the Dark Wizard obsessed with eternity. Her Harry had brought peace and light to the chaos and darkness. Hope had defeated despair. And damn anyone who would try to tell her to stop celebrating internally. This was their time to enjoy the feeling. She, Ron and Harry deserved this.

A quiet rustling broke through Hermione's happiness. It disturbed the peace settling in her chest. Being naturally curious, Hermione wanted to investigate. The knowledge that Death Eaters were still being rounded up, made her think twice about the idea. But it happened again and if it was an enemy, then they needed to be dealt with accordingly.

So, with a determined lift of her chin, the young witch slipped from Neville Longbottom's side and went to inquire about the sound. Her wand raised and steady, she escaped to a small hallway that led to two unused classrooms. A small noise attracted her attention to the room on the left. And with soft, measured footsteps, Hermione approached the doorway.

A quick swipe of her tongue on her lips to moisten them and Hermione craned her neck to take a peek inside. The quick scan revealed that no one was standing in the space. But that was like only reading the first chapter of a book and announcing that you knew exactly how the text ended. Her caution caused her heartbeat to accelerate. And with that rush of blood, the witch stepped lightly into the seemingly empty space.

Then everything started happening too fast.

A thick, strong hand wrapped around her off-hand like a flash of lightning. The grip was painful and caused a small squeak to emit from her lips. A whispered 'Safe travels, Mudblood!' and Hermione's wand was knocked from her grasp. A small trinket was shoved into her palm. Before Hermione could hear the sound of wood on stone, a familiar tug on her naval had Hermione being pulled away. The last thought Hermione had before the black took over was _'Damn it!'_


	2. Chapter 1

_**A/N: So, I have been impatiently waiting for Saturday to come around. I decided that today was Saturday and I am posting a day early. :D**_

 _ **I am loving that some of you are either very intrigued or really like my idea. I hope I don't disappoint.**_

 ** _Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and follows. They are what make my days. :D And now, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!_**

 _ **Happy reading!**_

 _ **Henny, that lucky Penny!**_

* * *

 _SPLASH!_

The cold water knocked any breathe from Hermione's lungs out. The muddy liquid began filling her mouth and throat. Fighting imaginary beasts, the bushy haired girl struggled to the surface. Without the aid of light, or direction, it was impossible to figure out which way was up. The young witch's flailing became desperate as more water filled her body. Then her head start pounding. Hermione's chest felt like it was caving in.

Before something slippery wrapped its self around her middle and brought her upwards.

And then the surface broke and Hermione felt her self being flung through the air. She landed heavily on her side on the grass. Water instantly began to be expelled from her throat and lungs. The force of the impact on the ground cleared most of the moisture away. Coughing and choking, Hermione brought up the rest. And then the first intake of clean air was as sweet as Honeyduke's finest. And brought a giggle of pure joy to Hermione. It ripped from her raw throat painfully and Hermione ended up groaning. That was most definitely not her best idea.

A slow turn of her neck and Hermione spotted the tip of a large tentacle dropping beneath the surface. _A giant squid? Wait, The Giant Squid? Oh, good._

Ignoring the protest of her jolted muscles, Hermione scrambled up onto her feet and turned around. Although, the sight that met her was not what she was expecting. There was no smoldering wood or crumbled brick. The evening sun shone red on the perfectly safe castle. The air smelled clean and pure. Blood, sweat and magic was not abundant in the atmosphere. There were birds chirping and trees swaying in the summer breeze. Hermione's eyes widened as she processed that there was no sounds of Death Eaters being quarantined. There were no sounds of crying. This was not her Hogwarts. This was not her time. It felt like someone smacked her in the chest as the newly filled lungs expelled the air from them.

And then she felt weak.

And then she felt herself falling.

The world went black, once again.

* * *

The hoot of an owl is what woke Hermione. She could hear it in the background. It was almost like an echo in her head. A head that was very sore and throbbing. With a groan, brown eyes blinked open into the late evening light. The grounds were still the same as when she had fainted, but with less light. Still highly confused and bordering on panic, Hermione pushed herself to her feet and took stock of her surroundings. She was trying to piece together just exactly what could have happened. Then she felt it.

Miraculously, Hermione had held onto the object that had replaced her wand before she was transported to...well, wherever here was. It was obviously a very good replica of Hogwarts and its surrounding grounds. Because there was no way that the castle should be in partial ruins. A bloody battle had just happened here. It shouldn't be like this. It shouldn't be like this.

Hermione's panicked thinking started to spiral out of control. She was running on fumes at present. She had just survived a war, just finished months of harsh living along with scraping together food to survive. On top of all that, the biggest battle had just finished and then she was pushed to another location, by force might she add, with no knowledge of where here was. It was almost too much for the over taxed witch. In fact, her head started to swim, so Hermione hobbled to the nearest tree stump and sat down.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione forced her mind to slow down. She forced her muscles to relax. What the poor witch needed to do was sit here, on the stump and think about her next move. It wasn't complicated if she thought this out one step at a time. And her first step, unfortunately, looked to be going towards the castle, that was most certainly NOT Hogwarts, and find someone of authority. It really pained her to do it, but it was the only logical plan that was of any help to the lost girl.

So, with a weighted heart, Hermione picked herself up and headed for the castle, that was most certainly NOT Hogwarts.

The trek was slow. Her tired form refused to move at a quick pace. It would be damned if it went faster than a wobbly stroll. And in all honesty, Hermione was fine with that. She was just too exhausted to be worried about walking pace. It was too frivolous a matter to really have any standing to what was going on around her. Apart from the aftermath, there was the issue of the fastest repair of a castle, even with magic, in history.

The halls and corridors were eerily quiet. Hermione found that with her nerves being on overdrive, the emptiness set her teeth on edge. Paranoia had the witch wishing for her wand for comfort. She felt the object in her palm again and decided to examine the trinket. Her fingers uncurled from it to reveal a button. To be more specific, a Potter Stinks button. The magic had expired while it was showing Harry's face with 'Potter Stinks' written out. Hermione's eyebrows drew together in utter confusion.

Deciding to solve that mystery later, Hermione pushed the button into her jeans pocket. It would have to wait, because she could only do one thing at a time. And right now, she needed to figure out just how real this Hogwarts was. If it was actually the school, she needed to find out if it had a Headmaster. And just who that Headmaster was. Because if it was someone whom she could not trust, Hermione needed to think of a plan of escape. Being on the run from Snatchers and Death Eaters had conditioned the young woman to think like a soldier. You always had a back-up plan if the plan of attack did not go in your favor. And that was that. Hermione, letting her feet guide her to the gargoyle, thought that if Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore were not behind the desk, then she was going to flee to the best of her abilities.

And before she knew it, Hermione was face to face with the ugly creature. With a loud sigh, the young witch came to a conclusion. This was more than likely the past and she was going to have to think of sweets. How she came to the conclusion, was very simple. Hogwarts was in perfect order. It was not battle ravaged and not only that, but this was Hogwarts. It smelled the same. It felt the same. And the active wards around the castle helped fortify that this was Hogwarts. It was abundantly clear, to the highly logical witch, that this was Hogwarts. And the evidence that this was not her time came in the form that there was no battle scars anywhere. Going with this train, Hermione surmised that this was the castle she so beloved and that this was a year or two before.

With another, but resigned sigh, Hermione recalled all the sweets she could and began to recite them.

"Sugar quills. Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Chocolate Frogs-" and right before her eyes, the gargoyle sprang to life and revealed the familiar stairwell.

Feeling her lungs with clean air for courage, Hermione ascended the stairwell. It was no comfort for her that the sweets worked. It really put a stone in her stomach. This was bad news. If Professor Dumbledore was Headmaster, than Hermione was farther back in time than she wanted. If Professor Snape was in the lead, than that would be more comforting. But to have to face Professor Dumbledore, that would be just too hard to have to deal with it. She barely had time to come to terms with his death the first time, before she was off on some foolhardy journey. Now she would have to look in the face.

And it posed another problem. How did an object meant for long distance travel push her so far into the past? How did it malfunction so badly that she was three or four years off from her present time? There were just too many questions and none of the right people to answer them. If only she had seen the person who committed this grievance against her. Then she might have at least two answers. And someone who she can strangle.

"Are you going to come in, or are we going to have a very informal conversation through the wood?" a very familiar voice called through the door. The softness came off comforting and the clarity felt trustworthy.

The tired witch hadn't even noticed she was at the doorway yet. The voice she knew to be Professor Dumbledore's started her out of her thinking. It was almost comforting to know that she was not too far from home. This might be bearable and workable now that she had a frame of reference. Mustering up her Gryffindor courage, Hermione twisted the knob and entered the space timidly.

"Ah, very nice. It is dreadfully hard to talk through a door. I am glad to see that you decided to enter my office." Professor Dumbledore's incarnate smiled from behind his massive desk. His twinkling blue eyes took her battered and exhausted form in.

Hermione examined the large space with a critical eye. The strange instruments littered the walls and floor. Silver shined in the torch light. Books lined the walls that did not have silver instruments and portraits. Books were stacked on tables and seats. The large space felt a little cluttered, but it was familiar. The wizard behind the large desk was also familiar. His greying hair and long beard were easily identifiable. His plum robes and wizard's hat were also a great comfort. But he didn't look like her professor from her time. He was much different, but still the same.

"I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You look very lost. Have a seat and I will order us some tea." the aging wizard motioned to the pair of cushioned chairs in front of his desk.

"Thank you, sir." Hermione whispered. She was awestruck and perplexed. This was Professor Dumbledore, but it wasn't. He wasn't the same, but he was the same. Her tired mind tried to pinpoint the exact feature that made him different as she wobbled over to the offered chair.

"Teeter!" the Headmaster called out softly. A loud crack produced a tiny elf with floppy ears. The long eyelashes gave light to a female and her dish towel dress drove the point home. With a sweeping bow, the Headmaster gave the little thing a big smile, "Please send up a tea service."

"Yes, Headmaster Dombledores!" the small creature squeaked before a loud crack had it vanishing.

Hermione laid a hand on the back of the chair for support. She lowered her stiff frame to the cushion and groaned quietly at the feeling of something soft supporting her. The aged wizard watched her carefully and silently. Hermione watched him watch her. While the chair was comfortable, the young witch was very perturbed. There was still something off and it bothered her so much she didn't have the energy to grimace at the use of house elves by the headmaster. Sinking further into the cushion, Hermione tried to relax her brain. They sat in silence, measuring each other waiting for the tea.

"Do you need Madame Pomfrey?" Professor Dumbledore broke the silence suddenly. Hermione jumped slightly at the question, "It just looks like you have an awful day. And you might have some wounds that need attending. Do you need Madame Pomfrey?"

"No thank you. I'm alright." Hermione replied. A loud crack had her jumping again. This time, Professor Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the movement.

"Milk? Sugar?" Hermione shook her head at both. Having milk or sugar would just give her headache so late at night. She just needed something in her system to get her through this discussion.

The Headmaster pointed his wand at a tea cup and with a simple swish and flick, levitated the saucer and small cup in the air. When it floated within reach, Hermione took the offered drink carefully and brought it to her lap. With a sigh of relief, she grasped the china with both hands and let the warm ceramic ground her cool fingers. A small sip had the hot liquid heating her insides. It was heavenly.

"Now that we have our tea, how about we start our talk with formalities. You already know who I am, but I am afraid, dear girl, that I do not know you. Let us start with your name." the elderly wizard took a quiet sip with a questioning glance at Hermione.

"My name is Hermione Granger, sir." and that was when Hermione realized that her conclusion was all wrong. This couldn't be her close to her time because he didn't recognize her. This couldn't be only three or four years in the past. This had to be longer. Something was very wrong. The blood left her face and her fingers turned to ice despite the warm drink.

"Are you well?" the professor inquired with a worried tone before Hermione felt faint again.

The last sound that Hermione remembers before the darkness took over was the tea cup shattering against the floor.


	3. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Hehe So, I am quite busy this weekend with a bowling tournament. I am going to post this an hour before I have to get out of the house to catch a small plane. I am just that smooth. So, you get this weeks chapter a day early also! Yay! Go Henria...for being somewhat organized.**_

 _ **I am loving the attention this is getting. It is very nice and sweet and I thank you all for it. From the bottom of my heart, thank you! :D**_

 _ **Now, without further ado, Chapter 2!**_

 _ **Happy reading!**_

 _ **Henny, that lucky Penny!**_

* * *

"Albus, she is under weight and dehydrated. She is exhausted and appears to have been tossed around, if you have come here to wake her, I will ban you from this infirmary!" a stern voice broke through the haze. Hermione kept her eyes closed because she felt like she was floating and it was marvelous.

"I am merely here, Poppy, to check on her status. When she appeared in my office last night, I did notice her less than ideal health. I am not here to cause trouble, madam." the kindly old man softly informed the nurse. Hermione recognized Madame Pomfrey's voice from the numerous times she woke up in the Hospital Wing. It was kind with enough backbone to kick anyone out of the infirmary that was not needed. Like now.

"Good. She is sleeping and will continue to sleep to help her wellbeing." the matron snapped. A light chuckle was heard after and then a door opening and closing. Hermione smiled lightly at the thought of the pushy woman.

Not wanting or feeling the need to really wake, Hermione rolled over and snuggled down to sleep some more. The bed felt glorious and the warm blanket helped her relax. A part of her mind wanted to get up and start asking questions, but another knew that to do that she would need to leave the bed. It really was a cruel thought to not take advantage of the soft material while she could. It had been a few months since she was able to be this warm and comfortable. And before Hermione got into the thick of it, she was going to take this time to gather as much strength as she could.

With that thought, she drifted into a light slumber.

* * *

"Miss?" a soft tone broke through the fog, "Miss? Are you ready to wake?"

Hermione realized that Madame Pomfrey was standing next to her cot. Her eyes blinked open and she felt too hot. The sun was shining through the vaulted windows and it was very bright. Removing the covers to start to cool down her body, Hermione rolled onto her back so she could sit up. Whatever the mediwitch may have done, it worked wonders on Hermione's body. It wasn't sore. It wasn't stiff. She could feel that the bruises were treated and the cuts healed. But Hermione still felt dirty. That could be because she was still in her clothes from her time.

"Miss?" the voice above her spoke again.

"Oh, I am so sorry, Madame Pomfrey." Hermione said with cotton mouth. Her throat was also bone dry. There was no spit to swallow with.

"That is all right. How are you, dear?" the matronly witch asked as she waved her wand over Hermione's body. The younger witch's hand twitch with longing to have her wand in case she needed to defend herself.

Wait, that wasn't right. This is a woman dedicated to the health and healing of young witches and wizards. Hermione shook her head slightly to clear that line of thought.

"I am much better, thank you. Thirsty, but I am doing better." the lost young woman responded. Madame Pomfrey nodded her head sympathetically. Hermione didn't want sympathy. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be with Harry and Ron, celebrating the victory they had worked so hard for. This wasn't fair. She shouldn't have to deal with this.

"To be expected. Want to tell me why you were running around hurting yourself?" The question was so direct, that it took Hermione by surprise. Madame Pomfrey never questioned how they had been hurt. She just treated and that was done. It was probably so she could be an innocent party in any wrong doing.

"No, not really. I need to finish speaking with Professor Dumbledore." Hermione became defensive. This was not right.

"Very well. I will inform the Headmaster that you wish to speak with him." and then the mediwitch was gone.

That didn't help the tension building in Hermione's body. Things were not adding up and there needed to be answers. Because if she was going to have to sit in a strange sort of limbo, then Hermione would be driven mad. The feeling of missing something didn't sit well with her. Hermione always knew. And if Hermione didn't know, then she would damn well figure it out herself. Because knowledge gave you power.

"Ah, I see you have finally decided to join us, Miss Granger." Professor Dumbledore's soft voice interrupted Hermione's musings. She sat up to attention.

"I'm sorry. I just had a bit of a shock that took me by surprise. I apologize for cutting our meeting short." Hermione decided to go with politeness. It usually worked and answered all her questions.

"Not to worry, dear. How are you feeling?" The question was beginning to bother her. She was fine. She was sitting and talking, wasn't she?

"Well enough. I have a rather odd question for you, sir." Hermione waited for him to motion her on, "What year is it?"

"Well, just judging by the fact that you asked that question, I am going to have a rather interesting answer for you." Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with a hidden smile, "It is the year nineteen seventy-one. The nineteenth of June, to be exact."

Hermione's shoulders slumped in disbelief. This was not right. How in Merlin's name did she end up in 1971? What was this mess all about?

What Hermione couldn't do, was focus on the questions. And the sudden birage of questions that were hounding her mind. You need to straighten your spine and focus on the task at hand. She needed to get out of her own head and start answering the constant inquiries instead of feeling sorry for herself. It was time to show the world, whichever this was, that she was Hermione Granger, of the House of Godric Gryffindor. And she was a force to reckoned with.

"You're right, that is quite interesting." The Gryffindor mused, "So, I assume that term just ended?"

"You assume correct. Which is intriguing. I have never seen you here, how do you know when our terms end?" The question was met with a blank face.

"May I be frank with you, sir?" A small nod encouraged her to go on, "I am from the year nineteen ninety-eight. I was at this very school when someone forced a Portkey into my hand and sent me away. I imagine that they did not mean to send me to the past, but to somewhere unfavorable." Hermione's explanation was very edited, but she couldn't afford to alter the past. She needed to preserve her world because it had a favorable outcome.

A small tickle started at the base of Hermione's skull. It took her mere seconds to realize that Professor Dumbledore was reading her mind. In a panic, she slammed down her Occulumency shields so hard and fast, not only did the professor flinch slightly, Hermione found herself cringing. An ache began to form behind her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I don't think you should be in there." Hermione really did feel sorry. She knew that kicking someone out her mind was very uncomfortable for them. But honestly, you should always ask permission first.

"It is quite alright. I do want to apologize. I am very gentle and most witches and wizards of the younger generation don't realize that I am using Legillmency on them." the elder man responded with a bow of his.

"I grew up very differently." Hermione said quietly, almost mournfully. That brought a very interested look turned her way.

"I see. You are cut from a different cloth, Miss Granger." The observation made Hermione uncomfortable, "We should discuss what route we take from here."

"Pardon, sir?" _What other route could we possibly take? I need to get back to my own time._

"Well, time travel by Portkey is not a common occurrence. I have not read all the books in the library, but I have read them all on Time Travel. This is a highly unusual situation. I am afraid that there is no other answer than finding a way to get comfortable in this time. I know this is not what you want to hear, but it is the only solution." Hermione nodded numbly. No going home? "One option is finding you a job so that you can start earning your own wage. But I fear that, given our situation here in this time, that there is not much employment. Death Eaters ravage and pillage shops. I would hate for you to be captured and tortured into spilling your secrets.

"Because your ability to throw others out of your mind is something that would be worth its weight in galleons. I was thinking of a different path for you. No one knows where my brother is. No one knows if he is married. No one knows if he has any children. No one knows my brother, Aberforth. I could legally adopt you as my niece. I hardly ever hand out tidbits of my personal life, so no one would be the wiser if I suddenly had a niece. Our story would be that your mother and yourself were attacked by Death Eaters and you survived, but she did not.

"What about Aberforth, you ask? He has fled the country in the hopes that Voldemort's followers will leave him alone. He entrusted me with your care because I am the one that Voldemort fears. He knows that as long as you are attached to me, you will be safe." Dumbledore let Hermione process the information for a moment as he pulled over a chair from the wall. The young witch began to chew on her bottom lip as the tall man sat down, "I have people working for me that I trust implicitly. You would be safe with them during holidays. They are witches and wizards that I trust with my life.

"I would leave you in their care. Because I would give you a special potion that would make it possible for you to attend Hogwarts, for what would be the second time. But you would be attending as Hermione Dumbledore, not Hermione Granger. This would protect you for your own time. This is the easiest and safest answer to our current problem. It would keep you close to myself so I could keep Death Eaters from ever getting to you."

Attend Hogwarts? Special potions? Hermione no longer wanted to be rational and clear headed. She wanted home. She was hoping to go home. This nightmare needed to end so she could begin to recoup from the trauma of her life. If she hadn't met Harry Bloody Potter, this would never have happened. But neither would the great adventures and the kinship you share with him. Hermione's conscience was trying to be reasonable.

"I could research. I will scour the library for the answer-"

"My dear, this is the answer. Something that is not meant to happen, has happened. I fear that the answer might take many years of research. How will you spend that time? Living here as you are? Finding someplace of your own, potentially putting yourself into harms way?"

"I'm muggle-born, not a pureblood." Hermione tried quickly and weakly. She was grasping at straws. No one would question Albus Dumbledore if she were really his pureblood niece.

"All the more reason to pose as my niece. This is the only way to ensure your survival." Professor Dumbledore pressed gently.

A heavy sigh escaped the witch's lips. He was right. The man was right. He knew what he was talking about. And this is what needed to happen. Because before attending her third year, Hermione had researched Time Travel also. She knew that something like this never happens. Some how, someone mangled their incantation and sent Hermione into the past and not to a location. And, this was a big and, if they did find an answer, it would take years figure it out. Not only doing the research, but also trying to find a way to reverse what has happened. And if her safest bet was to take a special potion and attend Hogwarts, well, that was that. She would have to go through puberty and all the awkward growing stages for the second time. Well, that is what she assumed because she could only think that Professor Dumbledore was talking about a de-aging potion.

Filling her lungs full of fresh air, Hermione looked her Headmaster in the eyes and said, "What potion are you talking about administering to me?"


	4. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Thank you everyone who reviewed. I do believe I answered any questions, at least to the best of my ability. Unless you really want spoilers, which I can give, I have kept most of the plot under wraps. Did you know, that I haven't even put this one on Tumblr? And, my husband, my biggest critic and biggest supporter hasn't read a single line of this. I may have told him very little about it. But, he is in the dark. But, if you want to discuss more, I am on Tumblr at henriasownbinder . tumblr . com, without the spaces, of course. :D**_

 _ **Happy reading!**_

 _ **Henny, that lucky Penny!**_

* * *

The 19th of June, 1971

Everything leading up that point was perplexing to Hermione. She couldn't help that more questions kept popping up in her mind. The two people that she had met in this time were not the people she knew as a school girl. Madame Pomfrey, from her time, knew the importance of resisting inquiring towards injuries. Professor Dumbledore never wanted to have any connections to others. Especially connections that could potentially be so public. It was awkward and unsettling that he insisted on 'adopting' her. This was not in his character.

In fifth year, he avoided Harry like he was the bubonic plague. It greatly frustrated her that he never gave any explanation until it grew too stressful for Harry. His reasoning was sound, but his approach was cold. This Dumbledore didn't seem to care what could come back to him. A mysterious niece was something that would catch any Dark Wizard's eye and no matter how much he pressed, it didn't make her safer. This made her a target and in turn, himself one as well. If she was a distant relative of a Potter or even a Pettigrew, that would make more sense. They had cousins all over, thanks to their pureblood status. But a Dumbledore? They are very well known and almost everyone knew their story.

But Hermione relented. She had no more fight left in her. If this was the best plan he could come up with, then she would follow his lead. He was a trusted mentor, even if he had a penchant for manipulating. His manipulation of Harry had been a deep cut to her heart. She thought that she could trust the wizard explicitly. But finding that he had only protected Harry so he could die 'at the right time' had hurt her. Even if Harry understood, it was a vile thing to do. It only proved to Hermione that powerful men make wars, but send the young to do their bidding. Even with that knowledge, he had a much better plan than she did.

After he left her to gather the potion, Madame Pomfrey came back to her bed and offered her some broth. It had been some forty-eight hours since she had last had anything to eat and her stomach complained loudly. She could only eat a few spoonfuls' every couple of minutes, but it was just the thing she needed. And she was grateful to the mediwitch for giving her broth and nothing too rich. The thought of eggs or bread had almost made the hot liquid come back up. The goblet of water was also so good. Not having to produce drinking was wonderful. Expending energy to make the water was just bothersome.

Just as Hermione was finishing the last of her bowl of the simple soup, Professor Dumbledore came back into the infirmary. The twinkle in his eye was back and it helped settle her nerves. He returned to his chair and sat down slowly. Hermione watched him with a sharp eye. The cornered animal feeling was still her first instinct and while it was almost heart wrenching that it was hard to trust anyone, it felt like the thing to do to ensure survival. It seemed that Professor Dumbledore understood because he never moved faster than necessary or started moving suddenly. He was watching her watching him. While her eyes were cautious, his were curious.

"Now, I will measure out the correct dosage, but would you like to bathe before doing this? It will more than likely make you fall asleep and stay asleep for many hours. I would also advise you to maybe don a hospital robe for the time being. I can have an elf wash your current clothing and then transfigure them into something of your new size." Hermione nodded slowly, absorbing the information, "Also, I have contacted the family that I want you to stay with. They are more than happy to have you stay with them and are very excited to enjoy the company of a little girl. You see, they have a son and have longed to show affection to a sweet girl.

"I told them your tale and they are more than happy to accept you in their family. They know that you are not going to be adopted by them, so they agreed to foster you for however long you may need to be." The wizened professor smiled gently, "No need to look so scared. They are wonderful people and, as I mentioned earlier, have my upmost trust. You will be safe."

"What will I do about currency? I have none. The bag that I arrived here with contains most of my personal belongings. But I long since ran out of galleons. I might have a few knuts and sickles."

"Which bag, dear?" The question caught her off guard and Hermione starred at the Headmaster for a moment. Before she blinked and shook her head.

"Oh, right. I have that hidden under my clothes. And since you didn't take my clothes yet, you don't know." Hermione shifted to the edge of the bed. She would have to brave standing, "I'll just take a bath in the Prefects' bathroom."

"The password is _prosperitatis_. And I assume you know the way." Hermione nodded in reply, "Very well. I will have the potion ready for you here."

"Thank you, sir." Hermione murmured. With a slight nod, Professor Dumbledore rose and left the young witch to her own devices.

When the curtain stopped swinging, Hermione inhaled deeply to fortify herself. With a tiny hop down, she landed on her socked feet and wobbled a little. It wasn't too bad. She hadn't been off her feet too long, but was more worried about her weak muscles from malnutrition and dehydration. She had gone months of constant movement along with little to no food and conjured water. That couldn't have been healthy. Maybe whatever Madame Pomfrey had done, it was helping her now too. Because she felt great, if not still a little tired.

Checking that her beaded bag was still under her clothing, Hermione slipped on her shoes and silently stole away from the Hospital Wing.

It was odd. Her feet carried her to the Prefects' bathroom automatically. She hadn't been in school for over a year and she still knew all the twists and turns. It seems that once something is habit, it never leaves you. That helped settle some of her nerves. The familiarity of her location was a comfort that Hermione craved. Most of what she was experiencing was not familiar. She just hoped that this was some fluke and that everyone else would act and appear the same.

All her hopes were dashed against the rocks of despair when she found herself in front of a stone wall and not the door for the Prefect's bathroom.

"No, this isn't right." she murmured to herself in disbelief. It was supposed to be right here. In this location.

A panic began to sweep through her blood, turning it cold. Touching the wall didn't make the door she wanted appear. With wide eyes, Hermione turned her head to the left and right. There were no doors in either direction and that didn't help the panic from gaining strength. Emitting a frustrated noise, Hermione spun and pressed her back to the empty wall. Right in front of her was a doorway. Not one to admit defeat so readily, Hermione crossed the hall and stared at the door.

" _Prosperiatis_." Hermione murmured the password quietly.

With a light groan, the door opened from her soft voice. Hermione released a small puff of breathe in relief and cautiously entered the space. Besides the door being in the wrong area, the washroom was the same as when she attended. The minor disparity unsettled her, only because she knew that the Marauders created their map in the seventies and it was in the same location as in her time. The fact that the door was on the wrong side caused her confusion.

The taps were all the same, so Hermione turned on her favorite ones. She made the water a little hotter than usual, but she was not going to let the opportunity to soak in hot water go to waste. As the swimming pool sized tub filled, Hermione pulled out a change of clothes, her shampoo and a brush. She laid the clothing and brush on a bench and put the shampoo on the side of the tub. Hermione pulled a towel and wash rag from the rack and put it next to her bottle of shampoo. Finally, she pulled her soiled and torn clothes off her grimy body.

Slipping under the water was almost a God-like experience. Hermione let out a hissed breathe at the temperature, but ignored the feeling. The tension that had been building since she arrived leaked out into the water. The lavender scented bubbles eased her mind. And in moments, Hermione found herself not thinking about anything and just letting the hot water caress her skin. It was a marvelous feeling. She didn't think about being in the past. She didn't think about Voldemort still being alive. She didn't even think about the Death Eaters that were apparently still alive because she was thrown back to a time not her own. She thought about the bubbles and the lovely scents in the air.

Hermione didn't know how long she had soaked in the bath. It must have been several minutes. Because when she brought her hands to the surface, the pads of her fingers were starting to crinkle. This was a sure sign that she should probably start washing to remove the more stubborn dirt from her body. After wetting and applying soap to the rag, Hermione began to scrub off the dirt that was clinging to her skin.

When she came upon her MUDBLOOD scar, Hermione hesitated. Emotions bubbled in her chest. First, disgust. She hated that word. It always made her feel less than adequate. It was like she didn't belong only because her parents weren't a part of the popular group. Second, degraded. Someone had used a sharp implement to cut a slur onto her body. She felt like trash and now she was branded like trash so that everyone would know. Third, anger. How dare someone violate her person for their own amusement? It really irked her that there was such a disconnect from the value of life that a horrible person would be so callous and mark her in such a way.

Finally, Hermione felt resolution enter her chest. She would not shy away from the word. It was a part of her, literally, now. It was a motivation to always rise above her call to duty. Didn't she just prove that, by helping Harry defeat one of the most powerful wizards of all time? Didn't she prove it day in and day out by researching and having knowledge readily available so that they could overcome any obstacle in their path? Of course she did. Hermione wasn't called 'Brightest Witch of Her Time' for any reason. Seeing the slight bright red from healing on her arm just made Hermione want to prove to the world that yes, she was a Mudblood and there was nothing you can do about it.

With a grimace set on her face, Hermione scrubbed the word with vigor. It stung, still very tender, but it made her blood boil with determination. This would be the very last time that this word ever bothers her. She thought it had stopped bothering her in school when Draco Malfoy, prat extraordinaire, had called her it enough times that it was easy to brush off the implication of the word. But when Bellatrix Lestrange had carved it into her arm, it was like the first time all over again. The pain and the burning humiliation this word had caused her were both physical and psychological. But seeing the evidence that she had lived through that traumatic experience gave her more reason to be steadfast.

Having the ability to shampoo her hair was grand. She could feel the dirt and grime being washed out of her hair. Even with the suds tangled in her massive curls, her hair felt lighter. When she rinsed them from her head, it felt like she could breathe again and it was magnificent. Nothing could replace the feeling of being clean after so long of being dirty. At least, nothing right now.

Draining the water was like a catharsis Hermione didn't know she needed. All of her hard work and months of stress went down the drain. A feeling of peace entered her body and it helped soothe the swirling emotions in her heart. She was still lost in a time so unfamiliar, but she was certain she would bare all the trials associated with this challenge. Because, even if she sometimes became a bit mental during the process, Hermione always accomplished the tasks set before her. Drying her skin aided in the soothing. Her smooth skin felt soft and pliable. She was new again.

Dressing in clean clothes was brilliant. She chose a short sleeved shirt and her muggle jeans because she was most comfortable in them. Even with her scar feeling slightly colder in the air, she wasn't bothered by it. Thinking back to her soak, it was the beginning of her resolve to keep those feelings of inadequacy and degradation at bay. She pushed the cuts from her mind and brushed out the tangles from her curls. She tied her hair up in a very messy bun. Hermione decided to let it dry that way and deal with it later. She could do that now. She could deal with matters later.

After packing her belongings and slinging her beaded bag around her form, Hermione set off to the Hospital Wing. Upon arriving, she could hear hushed voices flow through the slightly ajar door. Not wanting to surprise anyone, Hermione cleared her throat and pushed the wood open. The voices stilled and two faces turned to her entrance. Professor Dumbledore smiled lightly at the fresh face and Madame Pomfrey took in her clothing.

"Very...interesting clothing. From your time?" the mediwitch asked with a slight frown.

"Now Poppy, none of that. Her new family will help her dress appropriately." the elderly wizard chided softly, "Are you ready, Miss Dumbledore?"

It took a moment for Hermione to really let it sink in that she was now Hermione Dumbledore. Granger was now her past, or future if you wanted to look at it that way. She would need to leave herself behind in order to go forward and take on whatever this world would put on her.

"Yes, Professor. I am ready." Her earnest answer brought a bright twinkle to her 'Uncle' Albus' eye.

"Very well. I will see you in the morning." and he gave one last look at Madame Pomfrey before sweeping out of the infirmary. Once he had left, the no-nonsense witch looked at Hermione with a somber expression.

"Your potion is by the cot you were sleeping in. It will make you tired since transforming is a tedious and long process. Be sure you are tucked in bed before you drink. That will keep you from splitting your head open in the chance that you fall over."

"Yes, ma'am." Hermione replied with a nod. Seeing that Hermione would do as she said, the nursemaid entered her office and shut the door.

When Hermione pushed back the curtain around her bed, a small glass was on the nightstand. It was filled with a nasty brown potion. Looking back to see if anyone was present, Hermione vanished behind the white sheet. With a small sigh, Hermione slipped off her bag and placed it on the table next to the small glass. Toeing off her trainers, Hermione then slipped under the covers. One last glance at her larger body and Hermione picked up the potion and started to swallow the horrible liquid.

And it really was horrible. It was bitter and sour and it clung to her teeth. Really wishing for a glass of water as a chaser, Hermione quickly swallowed the rest. Trying to clean her teeth of the awful potion, she laid back against the pillow. The sleepiness started almost immediately. And before long, Hermione slipped under the spell of sleep again.


	5. Chapter 4

_**A/N: A little shorter than what I have been able to average with this story, but it wanted to end right there. *points to bottom of the page* But, the next chapter we reveal Hermione's foster family.**_

 _ **I have had a lot of questions about the future of Hermione in this time. Without giving anything away, I cannot tell you. I can't even drop hints. This is the first time I have the chance for a big reveal like this and I am kind of excited. So, if I have seemed a little off-putting, I am sorry. But my answers will ruin any surprise for you in this fic. :D**_

 _ **BUT! Thank you to everyone who took the time to review, favorite and follow my little story. I am always excited when I see an e-mail pertaining to this story! It really makes my day. And, as always, I am more than happy to answer any questions on here or Tumblr. My url is henriasownbinder . tumblr . com (without spaces.) or you can search for henriasownbinder. :D I tried to make it simple!**_

 _ **Now, to the chapter!**_

 _ **Happy reading!**_

 _ **Henny, that lucky Penny!**_

* * *

The 20th of June, 1971

It was an odd sensation to wake up and not feel right. In a way that didn't make sense, the world seemed bigger. Blinking her eyes open, Hermione glanced around the curtained area and just felt so small. Her head was resting lower on the pillow and her feet were closer to her torso. It was a bit disconcerting and disorienting. If she didn't know the reason, Hermione might have screamed. With the knowledge that she had willingly consumed a potion that would shrink her to the size of an eleven year old, Hermione quickly shrugged off the confused feelings and pushed the covers off of her.

From the light streaming through the breaks in the hangings Hermione calculated it was later in the morning. And her stomach was grumbling. Her throat felt like parchment. It was high time that she was on a regular eating schedule. She was in a stable (but not really stable) environment. There were at least two people that Hermione could trust as far as she could throw them. The food was available, so she could eat at her leisure. She needed to gain back some of the weight she lost.

"Good morning, Miss Dumbledore." Professor Dumbledore's soft voice floated through the curtains.

"Good morning, Professor." Hermione called through the partition, "You may come through."

Albus appeared through the curtain and smiled softly. Hermione figured that she had curls sticking up. She knew her hair had a bad habit of falling out of any do she tried to throw it up in. Not only that, but her clothes were more than likely sleep rumpled and huge on her. The neck of her shirt was threatening to fall off her shoulders and the hem was down to her knees. She was less than presentable, but it was what she had to work with.

"Well, the de-aging potion seems to have worked well." the twinkle was bright as he took in her appearance, "Do you wish for me to transfigure your clothes so they fit better?"

"Yes, please." The words felt foreign in Hermione's mouth.

As the Headmaster worked on her clothes, she felt around with her tongue. Her front teeth had resorted back to their original length before Madame Pomfrey had shrunk them in fourth year. Hot pin pricks started at the corners of Hermione's eyes. It was a foolish matter, but Hermione had believed she was beyond the childish remarks about her prepubescent appearance. She didn't even want to imagine what would be said when everyone saw her teeth now. It really was a frivolous thing.

"My dear? Are you all right?" Professor noticed the gathering moisture at the corners of her eyes when he had finished with her clothing. Hermione sniffed and nodded her head.

"It's a small matter, but it is something that I thought I wouldn't have to deal with again." Hermione answered as she wiped a stray tear away with her finger.

"I am assuming your front teeth?" The wizened wizard tilted his head towards her face. Hermione nodded again, "Well, I can help you there. Would you like me to shrink them for you? I would be more than happy to do so."

"Please, professor? I know it is very foolish of me, but I honestly do not want to experience that part of my childhood again." The young witch wiped another tear drop away. Hermione didn't even know why she was crying right now.

"'Tis nothing, my dear girl. You are more than entitled a frivolous matter now and again." Professor Dumbledore assured Hermione as he cupped her jaw gently and angled her head back, "I assume you know how this goes since you went through it once already?" Hermione made a sound in the affirmative, "Excellent. Hold still, Miss Dumbledore."

While Albus worked, Hermione began compiling a list of questions she was going to ask the Headmaster. She still needed to know what she was going to do about currency. She wondered if she was legally a Dumbledore now. But the one question that was hanging over her head was whom she would be staying with while not living at Hogwarts. It really bothered her that Professor Dumbledore hadn't told her yet. She had given him more than once to give her a name, but his refusal to do so irksome. She didn't know if it was because she wasn't trustworthy yet or if he didn't know she would trust him. Either way, Hermione was growing increasingly impatient without the knowledge she needed.

"There!" The professor exclaimed as he let Hermione's jaw go. She ran a cautionary tongue along her teeth and was happy to note that her teeth were straight. It was a small thing, but it was familiar.

"Thank you, sir." The pleased smile had the older man smiling too, "If you don't mind, sir, I have a few questions myself." she started as she hopped onto the bed again.

"I love answering questions, Miss Dumbledore. Let me find a chair." He swished his wand through the air and conjured a blue chair with bronze accents. Hermione crinkled her nose at the coloring, wondering why he would choose Ravenclaw House colors over Gryffindor House colors, "Let's begin, shall we?" Hermione shook it out of her head. House colors are not her greatest concern at present.

"Yes. Thank you." With her spine straight and her shoulders back, Hermione focused on his face. She was not going to make eye contact, just in case his curiosity got the better of him, "I had asked before, but we were still in the planning stage of your idea. What am I going to about currency in this time?"

"Ah, yes. I have a very large vault. I will supply you with gold whenever you need it. Before I take you over to the family today, I will stop at Gringotts and acquire enough Galleons for school supplies, robes and even muggle clothing if you prefer to wear that instead of robes."

"Oh, thank you, sir." Dumbledore nodded his head and Hermione licked her lips, "And am I now a Dumbledore? I noticed you calling me Miss Dumbledore and was wondering if it was official?"

"You are now my niece, Hermione Dumbledore. Take that as you will." Albus smiled at Hermione. Her lips quirked up. At least she wasn't alone in this world.

"That makes me feel a lot better, strangely." A quiet chuckle emitted from her professor and legal uncle, "Who will-"

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" The interruption was deliberate, that Hermione could tell. It took her by surprise that she was being dismissed so abruptly.

"No, not yet." Hermione answered slowly.

"I'll have Poppy send something for you. You need to gain weight. The de-aging potion could only do so much. You are extremely underweight. I know that because Poppy keeps scolding when I visit you." The twinkle was back and it was bright. Hermione smiled slightly at the comforting sight.

"Thank you." the smaller version responded quietly.

"Now, I have a few final matters to settle. After you are finished eating, I will take you over to your new home. A castle is no place for anyone during the summer holiday. No one is around for stimulating conversation. Except our ghosts, but they have their own activities to preoccupy themselves with." Professor Dumbledore smiled fondly at the young version of the girl who had stumbled into his office. He may not know all he had now in his hands, but as time went on, he would try to understand why this young and war torn witch had come into his life.

"I will be here, waiting." Hermione replied with a dejected sigh. She hated waiting for things to be done.

"I'll see you in a few hours." And with that, Albus rose from the chair and left through the part.

Hermione stayed on the edge of her bed. Her stomach rumbled quietly and so she didn't think a trip to the library would be quite the grand adventure as it usually was. She knew she needed food. She knew she needed to gain weight in order to begin her healing. While the bruises were gone and the cuts sealed, she knew that there was still a long road to recovery concerning the health of her heart and mind. Images of hexes and cackling faces flashed behind closed eyes when she was asleep. It made for frightening memories appearing, but Hermione could feel the effects of torture and mutilation beginning to take hold in her mind. Paranoia from being on the run had her feeling skittish and without her wand, she was defenseless.

These were things she could feel beginning to happen as she sat alone, waiting for whatever meal the nurse would bring her. Without a distraction, she could feel her anxiety level raise. It was an awful feeling that was starting to give her a headache. And she didn't even notice how the quiet in the infirmary was affecting her until a sudden swish from the curtains had her rolling backwards, off the cot and hiding just out of view.

"Silly girl! What are you doing?" The stern mediwitch exclaimed. Hermione cringed at the loudness and slowly stood to her full height.

"I-I'm sorry, Madame Pomfrey. The curtains moved so fast, they startled me." Hermione answered timidly.

"What in Merlin's good name has happened to you to be so skittish?" The sound of a tray being set down brought Hermione's gaze towards the meal that Madame Pomfrey had brought.

"I can't tell you that." The hungry witch replied. Her mouth started to water at the sausage, toast and eggs.

"Well, come here and eat your breakfast, then." Madame Pomfrey softened her tone. She could see a damaged witch when she saw one.

"Thank you." Hermione said as she climbed back on the bed.

"Eat it all, or I will magick it down your throat, young lady." The stern tone was back and despite the threat, Hermione smiled at the familiarity.

"Yes, ma'am." Hermione replied through the smile. With a satisfied nod, Madame Pomfrey left the recently de-aged witch to eat in peace.

Famished, Hermione tucked into the small, but very perfect meal. It was a little on the heavy side, more grease than she had eaten in a few months, but it was the perfect size. Just big enough to fill her stomach full, but comfortably. It made her very happy. And the fact that she kept it down was just icing on the cake.

"Madame Pomfrey certainly knows how to keep her patients well." the soft voice of her former professor broke through the quiet of her sequestered corner.

"She has an uncanny ability to know just when the right time to apply the medicine one so desperately needs in order to begin healing." Hermione answered before she took a sip of water.

"I fear she wouldn't make a good mediwitch at a children's magic school if she didn't."

With memories of Harry James Potter running around the halls of the very school, Hermione snorted softly before taking another sip of water.

"Are you finished?" the headmaster inquired while eyeing her empty tray.

"Yes sir." Hermione replied as she set her glass of water down.

"Very well." Professor Dumbledore's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at the pint-sized witch, "Let our journey being, my dear."


	6. Chapter 5

_**A/N: It is Saturday! Yay! That means an update! I want to thank everyone for favoriting, following and reviewing! You all are so sweet! :D And to the Guest reviewer on Dec 5th, thank you for your lovely comment. I don't have any plans to abandon this fic. Well, any in the near future.**_

 _ **And now we meet our foster family! So exciting!**_

 _ **Happy reading!**_

 _ **Henny, that lucky Penny!**_

* * *

Midnight on the 21st of June, 1971

 _"CRUCIO!"_

 _Pain._

 _It exploded into her mind and it forced itself into every cell of her being. Pain was everything that she was at that precise moment. It was the only thing that defined her. White, hot blades were cutting into her flesh and her organs. Electricity stimulated her nerves and sent them over the edge of reason. Hermione could only concentrate on the heated pinpricks in her mind and her eyes as her slight form writhed on the hard floor of the Malfoy Manor drawing room. Her pristine prison of evil and anguish._

 _It ended abruptly._

 _"Tell me, Mudblood. Where did you get the sword?" The unholy shrieks of the madwoman, Bellatrix were slightly muffled by the blood pounding in her ear drums._

 _"We didn't. We found it! Please!" Hermione begged, her throat already feeling raw from screaming, "It's not real! I swear!"_

 _"LIAR!" The volume had Hermione wincing, "CRUCIO!"_

 _The screams of agony were sharp and long. The world was turning on its head the longer that Hermione endured through the pain. One little image came forth into her mind's eye and it was Harry. Her Harry. He was like she was at present. Screaming, writhing, crying and grimacing. She could clearly see Harry in her position and that image alone gave Hermione the fortitude to answer Bellatrix Lestange's questions with lies. Seeing her Harry on the drawing room floor under this witch's wand was enough strength that she needed to keep saying that it was fake. It was fake. It was fake._

"Hermione!"

It was the sound of her name that brought her through the surface, violently. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead and her limbs were shaking with the phantom twitches of the crucio curse. Coughing and gasping, Hermione scrambled to the head of her bed. When her eyes focused, they focused on the soft grey of an eleven year old Sirius Black.

* * *

11:00 am on the 20th of June, 1971

"Twelve Family Library!"

The words felt familiar in her mouth, but Hermione didn't have any time to contemplate them as she was spinning through fireplaces and catching glimpses of dens, offices and libraries. Vertigo had her really wishing she hadn't followed the Headmaster through the fireplace. Having to travel through the floo network was just plain awful. But, without her wand and also being an eleven year old again, Hermione had no choice. And when she felt herself slowing down, she threw her arms out and tripped over the grate on her exit.

"Careful, Hermione." The soft timbre of Professor Dumbledore's voice eased the churning of her stomach. It was foolish, but she didn't like not knowing where she was going. It unnerved her.

"I'm fine. Thank you, Uncle." Hermione responded as she brushed soot from her clothing onto the hearth. She never managed to stay clean through floo travel.

A small gasp brought to attention that other people were in the room along with her and the Headmaster.

"Oh, Orion, she is precious!" a higher pitch made a woman's presence known. Hermione swiveled her head around and fear flooded her veins.

Standing off to the side were the infamous Orion and Walburga Black. Shouts of slurs and deep seated prejudice filled her memories. A portrait of a severely aged witch, hatred so profound in grey eyes, flashed across her eyes. It was so different from the vision that was standing in front of Hermione that it threw her for a loop. Backing away from the couple was Hermione's only defense and it was such a weak one.

"No." fell from her lips in a weak protest, "No. No."

"Hermione, this is Orion and Walburga Black. They are very good friends of mine and they have opened their home to you." Dumbledore ignored the girl's distress and calmly introduced the occupants of the library.

With a dry mouth, Hermione tore her eyes away from the couple standing expectantly to assess her surroundings. This was Number 12 Grimmauld Place library. This was a familiar room. But it really wasn't. Hermione had never seen it so bright and clean. When she had started coming to Sirius' childhood home, it had been ravaged by time and neglect. This was almost new and well cared for. It was lively. It was unsettling and mind boggling.

"Hermione, is it?" a deep voice interrupted the young witch's examination. Orion Black was handsome with sharp angles and sparkling grey eyes. A gentle smile on his lips made his features soft and welcoming. He reminded Hermione of Sirius after Azkaban. Without the crazed look in his pupils.

"Yes." she replied in a whisper.

"Welcome to our home. When your uncle contacted us yesterday, we knew that we would be delighted to have you here." The wizard continued. Disbelief and confusion were pounding in her chest. This was not right.

"Uncle?" Hermione began and then caught herself, "Oh, right."

It was that feeling of being cornered that fogged her brain. It was almost like an out of body experience for her. These people taught their children hate and segregation. They were not warm and caring people. For them to be smiling her way was the opposite of what Hermione had been taught. They should be spitting and yelling for her and her filth to begone. It was nauseating and disorienting. Hermione had to find purchase in the robes of Uncle Albus. She gripped his sleeve like a vice. If he felt it, he didn't pay any mind to her reaction.

"Walburga, I have brought letters for the two eleven year old in the house. Seeing as they will be arriving in a few short weeks, I decided to drop them off now and save an owl a trip. I hope you don't mind." With the hand that was not being seized by a nervous young girl, Albus reached into his robe pocket and fished out two thick letters. He presented them to Hermione.

"Oh, we don't mind. We can get a jump on shopping before the horde this way. Next week sound appropriate, dear?" Walburga looked to Orion at the question. His smile grew a little bigger and he nodded adoringly at his wife.

"Hermione, take these please." The command was veiled under the 'please'. With a weak nod, she grasped the envelopes without releasing the sleeve.

Suddenly, loud and quick footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs and the hall. Before Hermione could react, a much younger Sirius appeared beside his mother. Eyes bright with wonder and silky hair swinging back into place, he caught sight of the new comer and smiled broadly.

"Sorry mum! I was in my room and didn't hear the floo- Woah! Look at that hair!" he exclaimed loudly. A sharp slap on the back of his head from his mother didn't deter the grin plastered on his face, but it did have him rubbing the spot gingerly.

"That is not polite." Walburga chided with a small smile on her lips, "Sirius, this is Albus Dumbledore's niece, Hermione Dumbledore."

"Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Miss Dumbledore!" Sirius said with a bend at his waist. Hermione was taken aback by the interaction.

It was a curious thing. This was not the mannerisms of his family that Sirius described, very briefly, to Harry, Ron and Hermione. This was a loving family. And a happy family. Sirius was a happy, smiling child. And where was Regulus? The inconsistencies were driving the young witch mad. Dumbledore trusted these people? He had complete faith in them that he would send her to their house to live before attending Hogwarts. What the hell was going on?

"Sir, I need to speak with you." Hermione whispered. Her tone was almost frantic. Albus glanced down at her and then brought his gaze to the Black couple.

"It seems that Hermione is a bit nervous. Please excuse us while I try to comfort her before leaving." Albus quirked the corners of his lips up and Orion and Walburga nodded.

"Come, you little miscreant. Let us see what Kreacher is making for lunch." Walburga Black put a gentle hand on Sirius' shoulder to guide him to the kitchen.

"Yes, mother." the young boy replied before following his parents from the library.

"Sir, are you sure you trust these people?" Hermione pressed. She was not sure if the professor had all of his mental capabilities.

"With my life, child." the wizened man replied.

"Something is amiss here. These are not the people that I knew from my time. They were horrible people and treated their oldest son poorly. I spent two summers here, having that woman's portrait screaming at me about being a filthy mudblood. This isn't right!" Hermione's volume control was slipping. Her speech ended shrilly. Albus just looked down at her panicked features and posture and smiled sweetly.

"I find it odd that you know they have a second son. A son they currently are not raising. Cygnus and Druella are raising Regulus Black as they have deemed Orion and Walburga incompetent and unfit parents. They were only allowed to keep Sirius because he was hidden with me at Hogwarts for a month or two while they waited out the storm of Walburga's brother." That maddening twinkle was back in his eyes at Hermione's knowledge. It made her shift uncomfortably, "Come now, child. You have nothing to fear here. You are safe."

"I am not safe anywhere! I was supposed to be safe after that vile creature was destroyed-!" Hermione stopped and paled. She was starting to talk about the future. A future that was considerably grayer because of this new development.

"I already saw that in your memories. The very few that I was able to see before you eradicated me from your mind."

"Well, after he was gone, I was supposed to be safe! Instead, I somehow journeyed here to this time and place." Hermione's tone was harsh. She realized her mistake and sucked in a breathe quickly, "I apologize for my behavior. This is not fitting for someone who owes a lot of gratitude to you for everything you have done."

"Pay no mind, dear girl." the professor waved off her apology, "Just give these people a chance. They may surprise you."

And so Hermione did. She bid the headmaster good day and brought forth her Gryffindor courage. She knew exactly where the kitchen was and so she ventured towards that area. Upon hearing noises of the other occupants, she boldly stepped into their space and silently handed Sirius his letter. It took every ounce of her control to sit down at the wooden table without tripping over chair legs. Whether the family thought her actions were odd or out of place, they didn't comment. They just sat down at the table also and waited for Kreacher to bring out lunch.

Kreacher was also not in his usual state. He looked younger and more full of life. He was almost happy and cleaner. The house elf didn't mutter obscenities or slurs. And Hermione didn't eat much, still trying to become accustomed to heavier fare. And no one commented on the amount of food she didn't consume. Instead, Walburga suggested that Sirius show Hermione to her room and around the house with a quick tour. With enthusiasm, Sirius agreed and after a quick kiss on his mother's cheek, bounded from the dining area with a shout for Hermione to keep up.

The young witch stood slowly from her spot at the table and shuffled her chair back under.

"Thank you for allowing me stay. And lunch was wonderful. I am sorry for the inability to finish it all." the curly haired girl said, her voice quiet and high.

"No need to thank us. We are more than happy to help, darling." Walburga replied with a bright smile, "Now, go run along with Sirius. It will be hard to keep up with him. He has more energy than he needs."

"Yes, ma'am." and she left.

She did catch up with the energetic boy. He was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her. He showed her to her own room. Hermione almost laughed out loud. It was the same room she would stay in with Ginny during summers at Grimmauld Place. She placed her bag on the center of the mattress and followed the ebony haired boy through the house. She took note of the missing Black Family Tree tapestry. Sirius seemed not to notice its absence and continued on until they entered the library again.

"Well, this is where you entered." the young boy said with his arms splayed out, "Now, I need to ask about your name."

"What about it?" Hermione asked absently. She was studying the book titles for something she could read later.

"Is there anything else you like to be called? Because 'Hermione' is a mouthful and it is a dreadful name." A glint appeared in his grey eyes that took Hermione's notice.

"My name is perfectly acceptable. And it is not dreadful." she huffed. She loved her name.

"I'll think of something." Was his only reply.

After choosing a book, Hermione told Sirius she was going to her room to retire. She was exhausted emotionally and psychologically. It was just too much to think about, being back in Sirius' old prison, so she turned to books to occupy her head space. And before she knew it, Sirius was knocking on her door for dinner.

The evening meal with just as quiet as lunch. Hermione didn't offer any small talk and, seeming to sense her discomfort, the Black's didn't make her speak. When she excused herself, everyone bade her goodnight.

Now, being midnight, Hermione found herself looking into Sirius' grey eyes, trying to find comfort in their familiar color. With her chest heaving, her heart racing and nerves on their last strain, Hermione coward against her headboard and gulped down fresh air.

"It's only me, Hermione. It's Sirius." his tone was soft and uncertain, "Let me get mum."

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, "Please, no."

"Alright. Then I will stay here." Sirius answered immediately.

"No, I'll b-be fine. Just a bad dream." her throat was dry, "Please, just go back to sleep. I'll be alright for the rest of the night."

Sirius didn't believe the strange girl. Her eyes were still wide with fear and the pulse point on her neck was beating quickly. She was not fine or alright. She was frightened and that scared the boy. What did an eleven year old girl have to fear so deeply that she had nightmares about it?

"Sure. Go back to sleep then, silly girl. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Sirius."

And Hermione was not fine. Hermione was not fine.


End file.
